this dreadful spectacle
by Phoenix Satori
Summary: uraraka's down for the count. bakugou to the rescue!
1. the harrowing cry

the promised angst, delivered.

this constitutes YET ANOTHER splinter fic in the 'feat equal' universe, and is tied both to chapter six of 'afe' and to a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment in 'appendix a.' (but, like all the other spin-offs, it can be read as a stand-alone.)

likely due to the OVERWHELMINGLY WONDERFUL response i received for the most recent chapter of 'feat equal,' i churned. this. shit. out. in like, three days? because (once more, for those in the back) REVIEWS ARE FUEL.

haha, for real, though, thank you all *so much* for the crazy adulations and enthusiasm. :D

this splinter is specifically for my eternal **nonon** , who's commented on everything i've ever written for this fandom. thanks for the support, love. you're an author's dream. haaaaarts~

ENJOYYYYYY!

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chapter 1: the harrowing cry

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[the risks and rewards of Feeling: one year prior to the Quirk Registry Incident]

It happens as Izuku's passing off his unconscious charges to Gale's team on the outskirts of the estate.

"Two more already!" Yoarashi bellows a laugh and claps one of his huge hands against Izuku's back, and though he both expects and braces himself for the impact, the acclamatory whack _still_ briefly knocks the wind out of him. "Excellent work!" He lauds, slinging the not-small pair of villains over his massive shoulders like they weigh nothing at all, and lifting off on an updraft to spirit them away from the battleground –and into police custody.

"Thanks, Gale! We'll keep 'em coming!" Izuku promises, raising his hand in farewell and turning to run back into the compound and rejoin the fray.

But he's hardly taken his first step when the afternoon is rent asunder with a primal, anguished scream, emanating from somewhere within the depths of the main facility.

Izuku freezes, foreboding rooting him to the spot.

… _Kacchan_?

The harrowing cry carries over the pandemonium of a dozen independent skirmishes scattered across the sprawling property, ripped with guttural violence out of Kacchan like he's being flayed alive.

He's never heard anything like it –not from Kacchan, not from _anyone_. It's raw, and inhuman, and haunting.

It's the sound of his oldest rival and most complicated friend, _breaking_.

"Izuku," comes the gentle, sober hail through his transceiver, and even though he's too overwrought with anxiety to recognize that otherwise intimately familiar tone of voice, he knows it's Shouto all the same, because there's only one person who refuses to call him by his hero name on the job.

"Shouto, what…"

"We're in the basement of the main house. Hurry." Izuku doesn't need to be told twice.

"On my way."

/-/

Izuku makes record time, vaulting swiftly over the battle Kendo, Utsushimi, and Tenya are locked into with a quintet of mutation-types in the foyer, and zipping past a huge parlor in which Shinsou's having a laidback, one-sided conversation with a wide-eyed, statue-still woman, surrounded by a halo of dissipating rainbow mist. Scant seconds later, at the end of a long, empty hallway, he draws up to the entryway fronting the basement stairs, and rushes in without a second thought.

There's no way to prepare himself for the tableau he finds below.

Shouto's off to his right, tying off a tri-horned giant of a woman –apparently unconscious—with quirk-suppressing rope before encasing her in a block of ice. Five others are similarly trussed up nearby.

To his left is –carnage.

A villain Izuku identifies at once as 'Lionfish' (with that ornate, full-body spray of vividly-striped spines, it'd be hard to mistake him for anyone else) is whimpering softly in a mangled heap: his teeth have been smashed in, several of his spines have been severed completely or hang loose like broken hinges from their roots, and both of his legs are a shattered ruin.

And a few meters away, Kacchan's kneeling, shirtless, over Ochako, who's laid out on her side before him, speared through the gut and shoulder by quarter-meter-long, fist-thick spines, convulsing in a deepening pool of her own blood.

Izuku's breath catches, and he's light-headed and already crying and can't seem to swallow past the sudden obstruction in his throat. There's so much blood, _too much_ , and she's _so pale_ , and _why won't she stop seizing_?!

 _This can't be real. It_ _ **can't**_ _be—!_

Muddled by trauma, he isn't aware of Shouto's approach until Shouto's directly beside him, reaching for his hand. The hold is solid and steady and instantly reassuring, enough at least to snap him out of his spiraling despair and force him to take true stock of the situation.

There's not a lot any of them can do for her here, Izuku grasps, sorting through every last iota of first-aid knowledge he can access for anything helpful to contribute, but what little can be done is already being capably attended by Kacchan, which would be both impressive and astonishing if he weren't currently too overwhelmed by the sight of Ochako actively bleeding out before his eyes to appreciate how utterly remarkable this scene really is.

No attempt has been made to pull out the spines, because until they can get her to a medical facility, they can't risk removing the only things, ironically, helping in any substantial way to stem the blood loss. Instead, Kacchan's got either hand, densely wrapped in dark fabric –pieces of his own shirt, Izuku belatedly realizes—applying firm pressure around the spines in her abdomen and shoulder. And he's counting off, almost imperceptibly. It takes Izuku a long, horrified moment to understand that Kacchan's timing the duration of Ochako's seizure.

Like sentinels, joined in silent witness of this dreadful spectacle, Izuku clings desperately to Shouto's offered hand, waiting to be called to purpose. Shouto wouldn't bring him here just to watch one of his best friends fade away in such upsetting fashion – there's a reason he, specifically, was summoned. And he thinks he might be ready to guess why.

"When she stops…when she's ready, am I taking her to the hospital?" He asks softly, afraid to speak above a whisper, for fear of interrupting Kacchan. Electric blue and ash gray convey a solemn affirmation.

"He insisted it had to be you." Shouto responds, every bit as unobtrusively. Izuku nods, gripping Shouto all the tighter.

Dropping momentarily, inexorably into deep-mutter analysis mode, Izuku considers the calculus Kacchan must've run to arrive so immediately after that horrible scream at the conclusion that _he_ should be the one to bear Ochako into the care of medical professionals. Kacchan's incredibly fast himself, and could probably take her on his own and get to the nearest major hospital –Jakku* General, in the hub city adjacent to this backwoods country hideout— in well under seven minutes. But his quirk would make for a ceaselessly rough, jarring ride, and when the paramount objective is to keep her as still as they can so as _not_ to risk agitating her wounds, there's no way he would've deemed himself a viable option for transport.

Kacchan might also've contemplated getting a hold of Tenya, by far the fastest in the whole of their fledgling agency, but the drawbacks there must've been equally manifest: Tenya would've been a smoother ride, for sure, but his max speeds are only achievable in short bursts, and he's largely terrestrially-bound, besides, which would mean he'd have to take a more meandering, obstruction-laden route. He'd get there with all possible haste, no doubt, but he probably wouldn't make much better time than Kacchan –and ultimately, with the condition Ochako's in, they might not have the minutes to spare.

Izuku, meanwhile, in the prime of his abilities with One for All, could probably make the journey in a handful of blockbuster leaps, in _just_ over a minute. _And_ , with well-timed, precision flicks of a finger to create pockets of gently pressurized air, he could cushion his landings and keep the jostling to an absolute minimum. By Kacchan's reckoning –and now his own- he's the obvious choice, and likely Ochako's best shot at pulling through this ordeal.

Knowing Kacchan as well as he does, he can imagine what a bitter pill it has to have been to call him here, to do what Kacchan's determined he _can't_.

And yet it's… _heartening_ , that Kacchan's come so far beyond the boy who once furiously proclaimed he'd rather lose than win if winning meant accepting Izuku's help –or, that at least he has someone in his life he's willing to lay his pride aside for, and ask for Izuku's help even if he does still find the idea repugnant.

And that _is_ what this all amounts to, isn't it? That Ochako's important to Kacchan –important enough that he's prepared to reign in his ego and delegate her safety to his biggest rival; important enough that in the aftermath of sustaining these life-threatening wounds, Kacchan's anguish rang out like _he'd_ been gravely injured; important enough that she, together with Kirishima, convinced him to cooperate with Izuku and Shouto to build a massive, collaborative hero agency with multiple offices around Tokyo, staffed by their friends and peers from U.A., Isamu, Shiketsu, and Ketsubusu; all joined toward the common, high-minded purpose of presenting a united, generational front against the ever-rising tide of villainy, and embodying a new ethos that prizes teamwork over individual ability, to establish a new bedrock 'symbol' of hope and peace that needn't rest exclusively on any one person's shoulders.

Izuku noticed it for the first time, for _real_ , in a flash of insight at the _Daily Krumbs_ '** Exhibition Match last year: the reflex rhythm of their joint style, the comfortable intimacy and easy, unthinking physicality of Kacchan's every interaction with Ochako –all of it pointing to their exceptional compatibility and extensive history; all of it revelatory, changing the way Izuku sees Kacchan forever.

All of it, leading to this moment, with Izuku left to mourn and marvel on the sidelines as selfish, hot-headed Kacchan calmly and solicitously does everything in his meager power to ensure Ochako survives the day.

Because Kacchan loves her.

/-/

 _Finally_ , after what seems like a small eternity, Ochako slowly stops spasming, and Kacchan breathes out heavily, shakily.

"Two minutes, thirteen seconds." Kacchan says, ostensibly to himself, but loud enough for Izuku and Shouto to hear without straining. Afterward, " _Deku_ ," he utters the cruel nickname he gave Izuku as a child –that Ochako later benevolently reinterpreted—with grievous consequence, "get over here, fuckface." Shouto squeezes his hand once more, a gesture of loving support, and lets him go.

Izuku approaches Kacchan, trembling not from residual fear of an old bully but from the gravity of the charge Kacchan's about to bestow upon him.

"Is she—" He begins, but chokes off when Kacchan meets his eyes for the first time since he entered the room. His default lividity is nowhere to be found; in its place, there is only bleak, ruinous anger and terrible, terrible grief. Izuku averts his gaze, unable to bear the crushing weight of it.

"Get her the fuck outta here. We'll handle the rest." It's so important that Kacchan's says ' _we_ ,' and not ' _I_ ,' especially under such fraught circumstances. It soothes Izuku's unacknowledged unease that Kacchan might be harboring the secret intent to go on a murderous, vengeance-fueled rampage.

Kacchan watches Izuku stoop to retrieve Ochako with wolfish fixation, silently appraising and ready to snap at the slightest perceived negligence. But Izuku takes great pains to be gentle, and has her carefully bundled in his arms in a matter of seconds.

Then, wasting no time with longing glances or tender gestures, Kacchan removes himself to a safe distance, lifts one gauntleted arm directly overhead, and blows an explosive column upward, _obliterating_ a roughly circular aperture through both the first floor _and_ the roof several meters above that, with more than enough clearance for Izuku to jump, unobstructed, straight up and into the outside world.

As he strides forward to plant himself beneath the house's brand new breezeways, he seeks out Shouto's gaze once more, nodding as if to say ' _look out for Kacchan; he needs you_ ,' and, on seeing Shouto's answering nod, bespeaking an unconditional oath to do just that, Izuku turns back and finds himself face to face with Kacchan's uncharacteristically _closed_ expression.

"If she dies," Kacchan says coolly, "I'll fucking kill you." Then, at a less even keel, "I'll kill _**everyone**_." In the moment, Izuku believes he means it.

Knowing there's nothing he can say to get through to Kacchan right now, but determined to try anyway,

"You can count on me, Kacchan."

Somehow, impossibly, when Kacchan's response is to flip him off and growl,

"Fuck _off_ already, Deku," Izuku suspects he might've reached him, after all.

/-/

[excerpt taken from ' _The Daily Krumbs_ ,' Tokyo's Go-To Source for News You Can Trust!]

 _The operation to take down 'Variations on a Theme,' leader of the most notorious syndicate to emerge since Tomura Shigaraki and his League of Villains, is a resounding triumph, and the very first major campaign undertaken by the Kamino Pizza Agency,** held by many in the pro-hero world to be an 'ill-advised experiment,' doomed to fail. It has put the manifold offices of the Agency on the map and cemented the enormous, joint venture as a successful and practicable model for inter-agency collaboration, and skyrocketed several already famous up-and-comers belonging to the Agency to the very top of the hero rankings._

 _Chief among these is one, Bakugou Katsuki, aka 'Ground Zero,' who single-handedly took down_ _sixteen_ _of the forty-some individuals –including Variations himself— apprehended at Variations' compound. Reputedly, the lion's share of his accomplishments on this day took place following the tragic injuries sustained by his long-time unofficial partner, Uraraka Ochako, aka 'Uravity,' who remains in critical condition at Jakku General Hospital._

 _Undoubtedly as a direct result of Ground Zero's incredible feats during this momentous operation, he has climbed to the coveted number one spot in the rankings! Whether he's up to the challenge of holding on to the spot with Midoriya Izuku, aka 'Deku,' Tokyo's by-consensus successor to the 'Symbol of Peace' title, hot on his heels, is anyone's guess! But needless to say, we're excited to see where he goes from here!_

* * *

*Jakku - another star wars location, but ofc.

**Daily Krumbs: HER KACCHAKO ART IS EVERYTHING TO ME, OKAY. THIS LEGITSHIT (tm) LOOKS STRAIGHT UP LIKE SCREEN GRABS FROM THE SHOW, AND HOLY KARKATSUKI IS THAT EVER MY JAM. GO HURL PRAISE AT THIS TUMBLR, PLZ: [dailykrumbs (period) tumblr (period) com]

***Kamino Pizza Agency - guess who was adamant that the 'ill-advised, experimental' enterprise these 1-A darlings dreamed up be called 'kamino pizza?' THAT'S _RIGHT_ IT WAS BAKUGOU. the sentimental poop.

and. 'just over a minute:' horikoshi, amazingly, provided perfect reference for how many kilometers per second a wielder of one for all can cover. in the kamino arc, when all might showed up to duke it out with all for one, he remarked that all might had 'gotten weaker' because it took him 30 secs to bridge the 5 km gap. making some generous assumptions and slicing that time in a third, we'll say in all might's prime it maybe took him 5-10 secs to cover that same distance. i decided the compound these kiddos are at in *this* story is about 40-45 km away, and if it takes 5-10 secs for deku to go 5 km, then we are indeed looking at a time-frame of 1-1.5 mins for him to get uraraka to the hospital. WELCOME TO MY HORRIFYING HEADSPACE, WHERE THIS TRIVIAL, WHACK-A-DOODLE NONSENSE IS IMPORTANT ENOUGH FOR ME TO WRITE UP A HUGE-ASS FOOTNOTE TO DEMONSTRATE ITS FEASIBILITY. *piccolo, screaming from afar: _nnnnnnnneeeeEEEEERRRRRRRRD!_ *

also: i imagine deku n' crew probably did have emergency medical personnel on hand, somewhere on the outskirts of the operation, probably waiting wherever the police are hanging out. but needless to say, they were probably _not_ equipped to handle the major surgery-type attention uraraka atonceandimmediately needs.

alsoalso: THAT'S RIGHT **TODODEKU,** CHUMS. THAT'S THE GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE.

/-/

[next chapter: aaaaaaaaangst, bro fights, ura'rents, and! deus ex horn girl.]


	2. a fell roar

WHOOPS IT'S THREE CHAPTERS NOW. honestly, i didn't intend this. i just want to finish 'afe,' for real and for true, and go back to Having a Social Life for a while, but there was just no short n' easy way to get through all of the things that needed through-getting, so HERE WE ARE AGAIN, I GUESS.

**SPOILER WARNING** there's reference to a Big Incident in chapters 117-120 of the manga -nothing glaring, but it's there- as well as direct callbacks to events and characters introduced during the Eight Precepts Arc. if you're not up to speed yet, GET THAT WAY, cry for a few days, slowly piece yourself back together, and then hop back on by for a spell -for MORE ANGST.

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Katsuki listens impassively as the reedy-voiced, accordion-necked, obsequious fuck of a surgeon rattles off a goddamn laundry list of horrors: the spine in Uraraka's gut ruptured her liver, he reveals, and she was apparently hemorrhaging blood like a motherfucker by the time Deku arrived with her. But that's just where this grisly mindfuck of a misadventure begins, because the worst of her damage came not from the stab wounds themselves, but from the lacy membranes wrapped around each spine, loaded to fuck with venom and ripped open directly into her bloodstream. That fucked-up seizure he not only sat through but fucking clocked? Turns out that was Uraraka, going into anaphylactic shock. She evidently belongs to an unlucky segment of the population allergic to lionfish venom, which would've been bad enough if she'd been grazed by a normal-sized fish and not impaled by a _fully-grown human adult_ built like a brick fucking shithouse and packing spines long and thick enough to qualify as fucking _short swords_.

Useless-ass Squeezebox here even flat-out admits that, beyond a general indication that the toxin is 'devastatingly robust,' he can't say with any mathematical certainty how much more potent it is than regular lionfish venom. What he can say is that as a direct result of the envenomation and anaphylaxis, Uraraka went into cardiac arrest –fucking _twice_ —on the operating table, and that while his team was able to successfully bring her back from the edge both times, there's no way to stop the grim work of the venom, continuing its way through her system, necrotizing healthy tissue and wrecking motor nerve terminals.

They've got her 'tenuously stable,' he says with an oily, accomplished smile, but most of what they've done is stopgap, at best, effected to control the bleeding and suture the wounds and treat the symptoms –if not the lethal source—of her allergy. Ultimately, he confesses, unless by some miracle they divine a way to extract or counteract the dangerous levels of toxin in her blood, they're looking at a window of hours before she's completely and irreversibly paralyzed, and not much more than that before she undergoes multiple organ failure, then death.

Beside him, Katsuki is dimly aware of Deku, falling to his knees, clutching at his chest, openly weeping. Katsuki remains numbly standing, staring into his hands like they can explain how or why any of this is happening, mind reeling with the sick, uncomplicated realization that he was serious, back at the compound, when he warned Deku of the dire consequences Uraraka's death would bring. His categorical sense of self comes unmoored, and his life's ambition slips invisibly through his fingers, irretrievable, as he sets himself to new, fatal purpose.

The surgeon continues, explaining that, despite their efforts to restore her to consciousness to discuss her 'palliative care' options, she'd fallen into a coma and couldn't be revived, so they'd have to wait until her parents arrive to determine how to proceed.

"Mind you, we're not entirely out of ideas, but unfortunately, we believe it's unlikely she'll ever reawaken—"

Katsuki remembers the _impulse_ to spatter this inept, unctuous fuck all over the sterile, white canvas of the hospital corridor, but not the movement to actualize it –all he knows is, one minute he's upright, seething quietly, and the next he's on his stomach, eating linoleum. He must've attacked, though, because he can't imagine why the fuck else Squeezebox would be high-tailing it down the hall, shrieking; or why his palms are fresh-from-detonation warm; or why the hell Deku's got one iron-booted foot wedged between his shoulder blades and both of his arms pulled back behind him, and up, at a painful, any-sudden-move-means-broken-shoulders angle.

"It's not his _fault_ , Kacchan!" Deku whisper-screams, voice shaky with emotion and cracking like he's fucking just hit puberty. "You _can't_ take this out on innocent people!"

'Fucking _watch me_ ,' is what Katsuki means to say, but doesn't, because of…shit, who even fucking knows, some kind of rage-induced aphasia? Whatever the reason, Deku misguidedly takes his silence as assurance he'll behave, and carefully releases him. Then, more galling still, Deku extends a hand to help him up. Katsuki slaps the offered hand aside and climbs spitefully to his feet on his own, feeling oddly relieved and… _subdued_ by the familiar tingle of irritation prickling at his nape. His Deku pathologies are, clearly, deeply fucking rooted.

"Kacchan," Deku wibbles, smearing through a fucking repulsive amount of snot with the back of his hand –the same hand, incidentally, he just held out to help Katsuki stand. "Earlier, while Ochako-san was—while I was waiting, I killed some time looking up nearby agencies, and there's one about a quarter kilometer away I was thinking I'd like to visit." Katsuki has a sneaking suspicion he knows where this is going, and has a scathing rejection at the ready. If this fuckwit nerd thinks he can be lured away on a dinky-ass motherfucking field trip _now_ — "It's a smaller office, I think, but I bet they've probably got a training room they'd let us borrow. Ochako-san's parents should be here within the hour, and Tenya-kun'll be here to keep her company 'til then. As much as I feel like I should stay…it doesn't have to be for long, Kacchan, but I think a little fresh air and a quick spar might do us both some good. Interested?"

Old habits make him instantly wary of Deku's motives. Fury swells, blinding, at the notion that Deku, maddeningly _always_ filling the role of 'Kacchan's-fucking-keeper,' has seen right the fuck through him and only tendered his 'spontaneous and well-intentioned' invitation in a calculated bid to corral and deter the vindictive restlessness inscribed now into Katsuki's very being.

The planning, prep, and execution of the raid on Variations' hideout has kept them awake for well over a day –or, probably closer to two at this point; and this news about Uraraka has obviously fucked them both up, so it's possible Deku missed the cues and makes the offer out of a genuine desire to exorcise his own demons by way of bloody beatdown. It's possible, but it's not fucking likely.

Which means this is more probably Deku sticking his nose –for the billionth shitting time—where it _does not fucking belong_ , and pitying him, and trying to babysit him so he doesn't go tearing off right here and now to bust Lionfish out of holding, gut the mindless waste of skin, and watch with grim satisfaction as the fishman dies, slowly, hideously.

So Katsuki opens his mouth to tell Deku where he can shove his ill-conceived fucking proposition, but the nerd hedges his bets with a last-minute challenge:

"Race you there?" Which activates his automatic and overriding ' _grind Deku into fucking dust_ ' protocol, which this conniving asshole undoubtedly well fucking knows.

So, instead of the intended rejection: "You asked for it, shithead. Prepare to fucking _die_."

/-/

They've been here before, Katsuki realizes as Deku's knee smashes into his solar plexus, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. Fighting a fight with no surface meaning, because it doesn't matter which one of them comes out on top, or even if neither of them does. Hashing shit out with screaming violence, because for all the painstaking work they've put into reconciling their worldviews, _this_ is always going to be how they understand each other best.

Except last time they'd _really_ gotten into it, Katsuki'd been in a vulnerable temper over his culpability in the incident that forced All Might into retirement. He'd been jealous, and incensed, and frustrated about Deku's show-stopping, out-of-fucking-nowhere quirk and the spotlight that came with it. The nerd was surpassing him by leaps and fucking bounds, and cultivating a relationship with All Might – _his_ idol and inspiration—that was clearly different from his own, and substantial, special in a way the Kamino incident forced into sharp relief. He'd been afraid –of Deku overtaking him, of being powerless in the face of truly overwhelming odds, of the idea that he'd been _wrong_ , for _over a decade_ , about _everything_. But Aizawa, and then All Might himself, had shown up to smooth things over – to apologize for letting Katsuki bear his self-imposed burden all alone, and to instruct him, in a way he was _finally_ receptive to hearing, on how he and Deku might find a way forward, together.

And now here they are again, laying into one another, this time with no teachers to interfere, this time at _Deku's_ behest, while Uraraka's just down the road, pale and comatose and _dying_ , and there ain't a damn thing either of them can do about it. Katsuki's more angry and frustrated and afraid than he's ever been, and apparently just as fucking powerless as he was when he was fifteen and drowning under the weight of his own shitty insecurities; but Uraraka's not going to magically waltz in through the training room door and puff her cheeks out in pique, or demand to know what the heck he thinks he's doing to her best friend in the whole world, _moouuu_ , or skip the preamble and drag his ass outside and catapult him into the fucking stratosphere. Because she's dying, oh fuck why she's fucking _**dying**_ and yet again, it's _**his**_ fault-!

Deku freezes, and breathes a stunned, quiet, "…what—" before Katsuki's fist slams into his slack-jawed, dumbfuck face, and sends him skidding across the firmly padded floor. After a moment, Deku half sits up and turns his head to spit up a mouthful of blood. Then, he focuses squarely back on Katsuki, gaze direct and austere, yet soft, and openly sympathetic.

Katsuki doesn't understand what in fuck's killed the momentum until Deku tries again, "What…makes you say that?" And even then, it only dawns on him slowly that he must've said that last bit out loud. Without a shit's whiff of prompting. Because somehow, Deku always claws his way the fuck _in_ , without meaning to, without even fucking _trying_.

And there it is, the relentless, guilty press of a waking nightmare he can't escape—

/-/

 _It's seven-on-three –a total clusterfuck on the best of days, but these dickweeds are all Enhanced, courtesy of Variations on a Theme, their quirks augmented or amplified far beyond the scope of what they should be naturally capable of –which is how one of them, whose base quirk is selective, temporary immobilization, touches his shoulder and not only paralyzes his left arm and entire torso, but also gives him the sensation that someone's pumping liquid fire into his veins. It's fucking_ _ **debilitating**_ _, but he's still got use of his right arm, so he does his best to ignore the molten agony and jettisons himself forward, straight at the slick shit who's responsible, aiming to embed his boot in this nameless fuck's skull and maybe knock her out to see if that halts the effects of her quirk._

 _He succeeds, lays her flat and watches her eyes roll up into her head as she conks out, and her quirk_ does _let up, albeit gradually. Gradually enough that he doesn't –_ _ **can't**_ _—react fast enough to Lionfish and Dino Tank's surprise, tandem rush. He tries to pop himself upward to buy himself time, but he's off-balance, impeded by the slow-lifting paralysis, so it takes fucking nothing for the enormous, tri-horned beast woman to snatch him out of the air and jerk him right back down, and these sharp-pronged assholes are about to spit roast the shit out of him –until suddenly Dino Fucker's floating and flailing and he's able to wriggle himself free and blast her Hulk ass into the goddamn ceiling._

 _And then._

 _He hits the floor, pivoting to double-team Lionfish with Uraraka, who's going to be milking him for mochi over this save for months –and stops dead._

 _She only halted the forward progress of_ one _of his would-be executioners. The other, Lionfish, apparently kept coming –and ran her through in his stead._

 _Uraraka unceremoniously crumples, skin bleaching white and blood fucking_ pouring _out of her, and it's bad –_ _ **shit**_ _, it's so fucking_ _ **bad**_ _. Even Lionfish is just standing there, gaping like an asshole, as Katsuki carefully catches her at the neck and hip and lowers her gently onto his lap._

 _She's crying and wheezing and shaking uncontrollably, and through it all she manages the weakest approximation of her normally blinding smile, "You…owe me…big time."_

 _Something in him –rips wide open, and the world bleeds red._

/-/

Katsuki charges Deku with a fell roar, just as he's regaining his feet. Wreathed in green lightning, Deku falls backward into a handstand and kicks up, narrowly missing Katsuki's jaw with the toe of his boot. As he's springing back, feet first, Katsuki follows, serving up two piping hot scoops of nerd murder as he goes. But Deku's too fast by fucking half, and gives him the slip. He ducks the pincer bursts, tumbles sideways, and vaults upward clear to the damn ceiling, all in absurdly quick succession.

Bold decision, considering Katsuki's preference and unmatched aptitude for airborne combat. But then, the nerd's not too shabby at third axis warfare, either –not that he fucking _should_ be, considering he cribbed all his best moves from Katsuki.

Deku pushes off an oblong skylight at a sharp grade, coming down directly along Katsuki's rocket-propelled trajectory up, and they collide in a spectacular burst of sparking, emerald-tinged flame. Deku takes an explosive volley to the chest and stomach, but he's braced for the attack, and dissipates some of the impact with a casual, gale-force sweep of his arm – which he then lassoes around Katsuki's midsection, to hold him more or less in place so Deku can piledrive him into the fucking floor.

Katsuki does manage to invert their configuration once with a modest blast, but Deku just flicks his damn finger and they're right back where they started. After that, there's no time for another attempted reversal, because by then it's lights fucking out.

/-/

Katsuki comes to with a start, gasping in a huge breath that chokes off on a hacking, bile-flavored cough.

He gathers he hasn't been out for more than a few seconds, since Deku's just now crawling off of him, and sitting back on his haunches with a winded huff.

Katsuki lies still, waiting for the disquieting feeling – that he'll puke up absolutely all of his insides if he moves— to pass.

Quietly, eyes downcast, Deku begins to speak.

"Did you know Ochako-san saved my life the day we met? Before she even knew my name, during the entrance exam – she smacked me," Deku chuckles, wryly pointing to his cheek, "to keep me from pancaking into the pavement right after I broke my arms and legs for the very first time. And then she…she _vouched_ for me, tried to give me some of her points, so I might have even the smallest chance of getting into U.A. Because I didn't get _any_ standard points." Katsuki glares askance at Deku, arching a brow. "Not a single one. Ultimately, that didn't matter, but neither of us knew that at the time, so when she tried to transfer some of her own hard-earned points to a nobody like me…it was a big deal."

"Bully for you." Katsuki growls, put off by the increasingly eulogy-esque tone of this impromptu trip down memory lane.

"She was the first one who saw me, really, _truly_ saw me, and rooted for me, and _believed_ in me. She was my first and fastest friend –at U.A.," Deku qualifies, unnecessarily, because they both know that whatever the fuck they were prior to high school, it was by no one's definition 'friends.' "All the things I hated about myself, or felt ashamed of, she _liked_ about me. She supported me, gave me confidence, helped _literally_ redefine me. She made me feel _worthy_ , you know?" Two years ago, Uraraka gazed down into the root of him, past all the layers of intransigent rage and bluster, and found something buried there that made her smile like the fucking sun –at the _mere_ prospect that he might want her for his partner. _Of course he fucking knows_. "Still does. Ochako-san's a big part of who I am today. She's my best friend, Kacchan. One of my favorite rivals, too. And she's an _incredible_ hero, isn't she?" Deku says this with such cloying, barefaced sincerity that he feels sick all over again. "She was made for this work, even if she doesn't always believe as much herself. She's got amazing instincts, and she's smart, and strong, and _so_ brave, and people really _trust_ her, and she just… _never_ gives up – _ever_ , even when things seem hopeless." Then, the kicker he's too burned out to see coming: "Which is why _we_ can't give up on _her_."

Katsuki should've known this shitstain would try to start something.

Levering himself up onto his elbows, "Don't you _fucking_ _ **dare**_." He warns, meaning every ounce of the violence saturating his tone. "Don't you put that 'hope springs eternal' bullshit on me. This isn't a goddamn _fairy story_ ; she's not just going to miraculously wake up and be okay if we fucking _believe it hard enough_ —!"

Running right over him, "I know it's hard to hold on to hope when it seems like there _isn't_ any, and I know…" Deku stops, swallows hard, starts again, "I _know_ it hurts, Kacchan, believe me. It hurts me, too. Because _I love her, too_."

And – _fuck_. There, the sound of the other shoe, dropping: unmistakable in its implication, ugly and pathetic and fucking **shattering**.

Katsuki doesn't bother to deny it. But he doesn't acknowledge or own it, either, because _fuck this know-it-all nerd_.

"Kacchan," Deku says, reaching out as if to touch Katsuki, but thinking better of it, and dropping his hand into his lap, "Can I...do you…that is to say, we've always…"

" _Out_ with it, asshole." He growls, already _beyond_ done with this shit.

Deku screws his eyes shut like there's an unavoidable punch flying for the bridge of his nose and babbles out, "Do you t-trust me?" –like a punch is exactly the reaction he's anticipating. And truthfully, Katsuki _does_ consider obliging the expectation.

But in the end, what he does is scowl across the paltry, unbridgeable distance between them, assessing his lifelong idiot with penetrating severity. And he sees…an over-powerful goddamn crybaby, who is substantially less than his friend, and infinitely more than his family. He sees baseless optimism, and tenacious _intent_ , bolstered by implacable conviction.

He sees Deku, offering him a lifeline.

Huffing exasperatedly as he sits the rest of the way up and slings his elbows over his knees, "This'd better be worth my time." He sneers, deliberately _not_ responding to Deku's dumbass question. As he expects, though, the nerd easily reads between the lines, and smiles a gross, sappy smile, like Katsuki's just woven him a fucking friendship lanyard and pledged to be his 'best bro for life.' (Which, incidentally, is an insane, extremely specific scenario he's _participated_ in enacting, when he and Eijirou first moved in together –he's still got the stupid lanyard to prove it, tied to the zipper of his workout bag.) "You've clearly got some shitty scheme in the works, so let's hear it. But I swear to fuck, Deku, if you're about to spout some 'put your faith in the power of miracles' bunk, I will _fucking_ _ **end**_ _you_."

"No, Kacchan, no miracles. Just regular-old quirk magic." The freckled fuck chuckles softly, and takes a deep breath. "When I got to the hospital with Ochako-san, they told me upfront she was…that things looked _bad_ , so I called her parents first, to tell them what happened and make sure they hopped the next train up, in case the surgery…didn't go as well as we hoped. The next call I made was to Aizawa-sensei." Pointedly, Deku meets Katsuki's eyes, and just like that, it clicks.

" _The kid_." Deku nods affirmingly.

"It's…not a sure bet, Kacchan. Eri's only twelve, and for the most part, she's still terrified of her quirk, which makes it unwieldy at the best of times, and occasionally outright dangerous. Aizawa-san and the other teachers –and Mirio-senpai— have been working with her, so her control _has_ improved, but her quirk is super powerful, and a source of serious trauma for her, so progress has been slow. Which means there's…pretty big risk involved. Which is why…" Deku stops again, wipes away fresh tears, "Aizawa-sensei said they'd head down straight away, but he said he wouldn't even consider it unless Ochako-san…unless there were no other options. And only if Eri agreed –which...I felt terrible, having to ask, because I know it's still hard for her, but she said she wanted to help, if she could. She said she wanted to try to save Ochako-san like Ochako-san helped save her." Deku hits another pocket of turbulent emotion, and takes a long minute to compose himself before he continues. "A few years ago, she helped Mirio-senpai get his quirk back, so she _can_ safely use her power, and Aizawa-sensei will be here to supervise, and I-I _believe_ in her, Kacchan. But it's still not…a guarantee." Katsuki digests this information silently, as the cold, gnawing edge of his anger begins to gradually thaw. "I haven't had a chance to talk about it with Ochako-san's parents yet, either, 'cause I wasn't sure until just a little while ago if I'd even need to bring it up, but…I'll, I'll pull them aside when they get to the hospital, and hopefully they'll give us the go-ahead. Eri and Aizawa-sensei should be arriving shortly after her folks do, and I've got Kirishima-kun on standby at the train station to meet them and bring them up, so within a couple of hours, max, we'll know where we stand."

It might not be a guarantee, but it's more than he had a minute ago, when it felt like he was suffocating, like he wanted to scream and tear out of his fucking skin and shove his fist down Lionfish's throat and watch the light fade from the fishman's freakish, bulging eyes.

It's a reason to hope.

Katsuki doesn't think he's ever hated Deku more than in this moment, as he sits, robbed of his wrath, and indebted to this jerk-off dweeb for the rest of fuck-mothering eternity.

"I told you, you can count on me, Kacchan. I meant it." Muscles bunching as he climbs to his feet, he holds a hand down to Deku for the first time in as long as he can remember.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get smug about it, shitwad. We're not outta the woods yet." Grinning, Deku grabs his forearm, and Katsuki yanks him up. "Let's go loop in Four Eyes." He says. "Fucker's probably a blubbering damn mess."

What he _doesn't_ say is 'thank you,' not yet, and maybe not ever, but the gratitude is there, for fucking keeps, and Katsuki puts the odds at a million-to-one the nerd already knows.

* * *

a couple things:

first, i did *not* go into this chapter knowing we'd be digging down so deeply into the baku-deku dynamic. i'm glad we _did_ , because their super fucked relationship is hands down one of my *absolute favorite things* about bnha, i just...wasn't expecting it. i hadn't even really planned for deku to have more than a couple cameo moments, and then fade into the background like everyone else while bakugou flipped his shit and spun out on his own. but. i ended up needing a sounding board for bakugou's despair, and who *better* than deku? who better to challenge him and take his confrontational sadness and violent anger head-on, and *force* him to confront the root of all that horrible turmoil he refuses to process? who better to let him vent his frustrations in a crazy, cathartic brawl and then reveal that, like always, he's *got a plan* and he's not letting *anyone* give up on uraraka? it had to be deku, for so, so many reasons. plus, for kacchako to really *work* for me, the baku-deku dynamic has to be on hella more solid footing than it is currently in the manga, so this fic has also provided a way for me to showcase that these two are...still not 'friends,' per se, but sort of?

anyway, i know there was a lot of baku-deku exploration in this chapter, but to my mind, at least, it was important -necessary, even, to unlock the eventual kacchako smooches.

speaking of which: i only have a couple more scenes in mind to wrap this fic up, so the third and FOR REAL FINAL chapter of this mini-series should be out sooner rather than later. thanks for bearing with me, lovelies~

secondly, the agency the boys visit is the 'Gentle Agency,' and i *do* actually have a very small scene written out detailing deku having a brief, heartfelt convo with la brava at the entrance before he detects bakugou's getting antsy and asks to use a training room for sparring. i did verymuch want to include this scene, but it just felt kinda...out of place, tonally, so it had to be cut. one day, if i ever feel intrepid enough to wade into the choppy, alligator-bot-laden waters of tumblr, i may post it - and possibly a handful of other 'deleted scenes,' but i just wanted everyone to know the agency they're at is GENTLE AND LA BRAVA'S because gentle got out of jail eventually and started over with a renewed sense of purpose and justice and now he's fighting the good fight and AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE THESE CHARACTERS, HORIKOSHI, HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD AT THIS SHIT, SERIOUSLY.

also. here's a hilarious (and educational!) tumblr i found in the course of my lionfish research: [bunjywunjy (period) tumblr (period) com / post / 173808985557 / siege-of-the-sea-devils]

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[next chapter: ura'rents and! deus ex horn girl.]


	3. all it takes

wow. this...sure is a chapter that exists.

**spoiler warning** still very much in effect for anyone not more or less up-to-date with the manga. :)

speaking of spoilers: BAKUGOU'S WINTER COSTUME, ANYONE?! GOD _DAMN_ , HORI.

*ahem* enjoy~

* * *

After their spar, Pigtails –or 'La Brava,' as she keeps peevishly insisting he call her— lets them use her agency's showers for a quick rinse –which, admittedly, he and Deku both sorely need. They're caked in two days' worth of grime and sweat and dried blood –and now that he's thinking about it, they must've made quite the damn sight back at the hospital: the Symbol of Peace and the Mad Bomber, side-by-side, one of them shirtless and agitated, both of them disaster-flick fucking filthy.

While Katsuki and the nerd are making themselves presentable, the Pipsqueak makes off with their costumes –to be cleaned or tossed into the nearest dumpster or shipped out to a hazmat team and fed to an incinerator, he's got no idea. She left him his boots, gloves, and gauntlets, at least. In place of the rest of his ensemble, she's laid out a neatly-folded, hearts-and-teacups-themed t-shirt, a matching pair of sweatpants, and pin-striped socks and boxer briefs emblazoned with the image of some placidly smiling, guy-linered asshole who's more forelock than face.

Nearby, Deku appraises his own, identical set of civvies, and grins at some secret amusement. Then, unabashedly, he starts dressing himself.

Making no effort to hide his curiosity – or his annoyance:

"Who the shit _are_ these freaks?"

"Just some old acquaintances." Deku answers vaguely, as Katsuki begrudgingly tugs on the –alarmingly snug—briefs. "Met 'em at the cultural festival, back in our freshman year." He continues, unprompted, though what he's saying is obviously bullshit, since the festival that year had been closed to outsiders. "They've come a long way." He finishes with weird fondness, sitting back on the locker room bench to pull on his new socks. "But then, so have we." Deku smiles over at him suddenly, and Katsuki bristles reflexively.

Fortunately, that's the extent of the nerd's sentimental sneak attack. Katsuki finishes strapping on his boots, hackles gradually lowering as Deku toes into his shoes in blessed fucking silence.

As they leave, Deku stops off briefly to chat with Pigtails, who wastes no time extracting compensation in the form of a promise that he'll be as visible in the gear as possible, and promote the 'Gentle brand' to the utmost of his ability, before hopping up onto her desk and pecking him on the cheek.

Katsuki strolls right the hell out of there to avoid any similar such unreasonable extortion attempts.

/-/

Deku leads Four Eyes out of Uraraka's room to fill him in on the newest developments and grab some eats from the cafeteria, leaving Katsuki alone with her for the first time in several days.

The raid on Variations' compound was a massive operation, involving a handful of Jakku Ward police departments, an assortment of emergency service personnel, and eight separate offices operating under the Kamino Pizza Agency umbrella. Leading up to the bust, people were filtering in and out of the Agency's makeshift, local _ryokan_ * headquarters at all hours of the day and night, carrying out any one of a thousand pre-raid assignments. In such a hectic environment, where even the bathrooms and bedrooms became communal spaces, privacy of any kind was impossible.

To Katsuki, this arrangement had been unbearable in the extreme, particularly as there'd been no place for him to go to eat or rest or gather his thoughts in fucking peace, and no room for him to let off any damn steam, either, by working out or scrapping with Eijirou or Uraraka or any of the dozens of other heroes on-hand.

By day six, without an outlet to curb his escalating boredom and agitation, Katsuki felt very much on the verge of laying waste to the quaint, country inn that had become an overcrowded prison _hellhole_ , and blowing the whole venture.

This morning's commencement of operations, then, had come not a moment too soon. But, while the raid kicking off ended his long confinement, it also _tripled_ the volume of insufferable assholes in his immediate proximity, and moved him proportionately closer to murder death killing fucking _everyone_.

Now, finally, he's won the solitude he's been after all fucking week, and he finds himself ironically jonesing for someone to break it. Namely Uraraka, whose perfect stillness and eerie silence is bone-chilling, and intensely fucking upsetting.

She looks unnervingly pallid, and unnaturally serene. She looks…gone.

Bile knots thick in his throat, and his hands pick up a fine, irrepressible tremor, and he has to stop, and look away from her prone form on the bed, and remind himself there's a mutant kid with an impossible quirk on the way to set things right and _save her_ by undoing the fatal damage he couldn't fucking prevent.

She's not gone –she's still here, right the fuck in front of him; she just looks like hell, is all. But only for now, just for a little longer…

Shaking his head to dispel these heavy reflections, he breathes deep and resumes his approach, fists clenched, and sits stiffly in the ergonomically shit chair at her bedside.

Up close, Katsuki notices her sheets and coverlet have been tucked neatly around her body and up under her arms, and obsessively smoothed free of wrinkles. Her hair's been combed, too, and fastidiously arranged on her pillow, effecting a deliberate, coronal symmetry.

Rolling his eyes at what is clearly the compulsive work of an inveterate perfectionist – _fucking Four Eyes_ , Katsuki musses her hair and blankets, mostly to spite Uraraka's neurotic best friend, but also to restore a little authenticity and _life_ to her appearance. She's no Ashido, who somehow long-distance fucking _migrates_ in her sleep, but Uraraka can flail and sprawl with the best of them, and cultivate some serious bedhead, besides. He knows this because he's fucking seen it, on multiple occasions, during away missions and stakeouts and any one of a million impromptu sleepovers his group of chosen idiots have hosted at _his fucking apartment_. Which is why it's so damn disturbing to see her posed and tidied and impeccably coiffed, and why he'll invite Four Eyes to crawl up his own ass and die if he kicks up a fuss about Katsuki's rebellious –if thoughtful—disheveling.

 _Post_ -disheveling, at a loss for anything productive to do, Katsuki occupies himself by slouching down in his seat and trying to discern what each among the array of rhythmically beeping and/or humming machines at the head of her bed is meant to monitor or measure, while staunchly resisting the chump-ass impulse to fill the silence with inane chatter. He doesn't _do_ small talk or heart-to-hearts, so he wouldn't know what the hell to say in the first place, and in any case, he's sure Four Eyes and the fucking Nerd Eternal will be back to talk her ear off any goddamn minute, rendering any shitty, one-sided conversation he might try to make completely superfluous.

And anyway, who the fuck knows if she's even still _in there_? Something in his chest constricts at the thought, but he pushes through it and bitterly forces himself to confront the morbid possibility –because that accordion asshole had said so himself, hadn't he? That she's alive, but only 'tenuously?' That every passing minute brings her closer to multisystem organ failure and death? She might not be gone yet, but she's probably not really _**here**_ , either, at whatever basic level of awareness she'd need to access to hear or appreciate any of the frivolous sap Four Eyes or Deku might foist onto her.

She's an anaesthetized vegetable, an empty fucking shell. She's **unreachable**.

Katsuki can't breathe. He can't breathe and he can't swallow and he feels sick and woozy and cold, like he's freezing to death, and overheated, like he's being boiled alive, and his heart's racing and he's losing his fucking mind and he _can't fucking breathe_ —

He reaches out, in defiance of his own conclusion, and grasps, shaking, for Uraraka's hand. She's limp but solid, and her skin is warm, and the throb of her pulse beats a steady tattoo against the heel of his palm, and it's not anywhere near enough but it's _something_ and he'll take it and fucking like it, because nothing else makes sense and he's in hell and it's _all he's got_.

Gradually, over the course of anywhere from a few minutes to a calendar goddamn year, his breathing evens out, his heart stops hammering like it's looking to cannonball out of his chest, and he's left in a state of stupefied horror –'cause _what the mind-fucking shit was that_?

Belatedly realizing he's got Uraraka in an unwitting death grip, he slackens his hold and gingerly lays her hand back, into the cradle of his left palm. Then, mulling over the uncomfortably high probability that he's just had a legit, shit-you-not _panic attack_ , he abstractedly skims the thumb of his right hand up, along the raised, pink slope of a scar scored across her palm –all that remains of the deep, jagged gash she won for plunging her whole arm through layer upon layer of razor wire mesh to grab at the villain encased therein. She'd let the doctor from her old agency –that interloping shit-heel, Stitch Fix**— sew up and cosmetically conceal most of the damage from the encounter, with the exception of this one wound, which she proudly insisted on keeping.

Katsuki smirks in spite of himself as his thumb smooths downward and doubles back, sweeping the heel. Still half in an incredulous daze, he overlays her hand with his own, lightly probing at the pink tips of her fingers (though he's dimly mindful of avoiding her thumb, so as not to accidentally activate her quirk and place any undue stress on her overtaxed body). The small pads are finely calloused, though primarily squishy in texture, and weirdly engrossing.

It's fucking wild that these fleshy little nubs harness the power to switch off the force responsible for forming stars and holding galaxies together and imperceptibly guiding the evolution of the entire fucking _universe_.

In unbidden flashes, he sees Uraraka, exuberant, grabbing him by the arm and whipping him around like a centrifuge and hurling him into the sky so hard and so fast he briefly blacks the fuck out; single-minded and visibly fighting her spew reflex as she makes her way across The Sumida*** in the aftermath of a bridge collapse, slapping small, passenger vehicles and mammoth, cargo-loaded semi-trucks one after another, determined to salvage them all and surpassing her weight limit many times over in the process; wide-eyed and awe-struck as they – under _extremely_ controlled conditions—successfully simulate a vacuum-of-space explosion at JAXA HQ.

Katsuki's never stopped taking on solo work, or partnering up with any number of other pros as a given job may dictate, so they've never been exclusive, but generally speaking, if he's got a choice in the matter, Uraraka's it. She's clever as fuck and can take care of herself, she's a good goddamn diplomat, she reads him easy – and with a casual tap of her fingers, she takes him from being simply fast to moving at hypervelocity speeds even he can _barely_ fucking track, like a runaway star shaking the gravitational grasp of the Milky Way and hurtling out into open space at a fucking million kilometers per hour.

And their compatibility is the real deal, predicated on a fuck-ton of practice and two years of his life spent seamlessly –if inadvertently—shifting every last fucking one of his paradigms to accommodate her, 'til somewhere along the way, the idea of a career without her had become –unbeknownst to him until this very moment— terrifying, untenable, in every way inconceivable. Which is why…what the shit is he supposed to _do_ if…if she actually—

Yet again, dread needles through him, icy-hot and spiked with adrenaline, and Katsuki weaves his fingers through Uraraka's to stem the rising tide of panic, holding tight to her knuckles and willing her to wake the fuck up and reciprocate, or shriek at him and shake him off and pout at him, adorably mortified, or—

Out of motherfucking _nowhere_ , a hand drops onto his shoulder. Snapping back to himself in an instant and automatically lashing out at whatever pea-brained shithole with a death wish –likely Four Eyes or Deku—has _dared_ to sneak up on him,

"Fucking _**what**_ , fucking assrag piece of shit motherfu-!" But his mouth clacks shut as he throws a murderous glare over his shoulder at the person attached to the hand and sees – _Uraraka_? Or, Uraraka's _mom_ , he realizes after a disoriented double take, though the resemblance will never _not_ be uncanny. But the differences are definitely there, and more apparent the longer he looks: her mom's face is less round, with thinner brows and smile lines around her eyes. She's shorter than Uraraka, too, though her hair's noticeably longer. And she's… _softer_. Not plump, per se; she's actually fairly slender, but Uraraka's impressively toned from years of hard conditioning, and her mom -isn't.

Katsuki's on his feet in a heartbeat, and dipping her a shallow bow before he can remember he doesn't go in for all that pointless social niceties crap. As he takes in more of his surroundings, he notices Uraraka's old man at the door, quietly sliding it shut. When her pops sees _him_ , he blinks, offers an awkward, faltering smile, and waves a silent hello right around the time his eyes hit the bed – where Katsuki's still got a hold of Uraraka's hand.

Katsuki doesn't immediately let her go, because he doesn't fucking _want_ to, but out of grudging respect, he –eventually—turns and gently releases her, mutely stepping back to cede her to her parents. Uraraka's mom gives his shoulder a final, gracious squeeze before she leaves him to greet her daughter.

"My brave girl." She says sweetly, leaning down to kiss Uraraka's cheek with cozy tenderness. Uraraka's pops parks himself on the opposite side of the bed, brushing recently re-tousled hair out of her eyes and pressing his forehead to hers.

"Heya, sweet tea," he hums.

At length, as Uraraka's old man gathers Katsuki has no intention of removing himself on his own, he –not unkindly— gives Katsuki permission to go. Understanding her parents probably want a moment alone with their only daughter, Katsuki nevertheless digs in his heels.

"Ain't goin' nowhere." He grouses, surly, which makes her old man's brow twitch and prompts a musical laugh from her mom. Not reluctant in the slightest, Uraraka's mom approaches, and stretches up when he's in reach to pat him on the head. Somehow, it feels neither patronizing nor dismissive.

"You're welcome to stay, Katsuki-kun." She says, using his first name without a hint of compunction. He's only met her once before today, when Uraraka roped him and Four Eyes and Frogger into doing an on-location poster photoshoot for her parents' construction business, but she started calling him 'Katsuki' literally the instant after he introduced himself. "We're happy to have ya'. On one condition, though?" The hand smoothing over his scalp slips away, and reappears at his elbow, lightly guiding him to the small sofa beneath the room's single, massive window. "Try to get a little rest? Doesn't look like ya've slept in a while." He opens his mouth to protest, but she's warmly unbrooking. "Just a catnap. I'll wake ya' in fifteen minutes, I promise, an' not a minute after. But you look a fright, Katsuki-kun, and I think it'd fix ya' right to sleep a spell. Izu-kun and Ten-kun'll be back up in a few, and I'll be insistin' they get some shut-eye, too, while they can. As I understand it, your ol' teacher an' his daughter'll be here soon, n' then I think we'll see quite a flurry o' activity, hm?"

Uraraka's mom reminds him of Deku's mom, in that she's overly solicitous and unable to be anything other than unreservedly affectionate. There's that quiet core of uncompromising, steely strength in her, too, that reminds him not only of Deku's mom, but also his own old man.

Grumblingly assenting, Katsuki slumps down onto the –surprisingly plush—sofa and crosses his arms, pasting on a default scowl only because he doesn't know what the hell else to do with his face.

Uraraka's mom smiles down at him, apparently tickled fucking pink. Then, suddenly, warm hands are framing his face and he's looking directly into a bright, earnest gaze.

"Thank you for keepin' an eye on our baby." She says, unquestionably sincere, and he finds he can't admit that that _isn't_ what he'd done, that he _failed_ to do just that, because how the shit is he supposed to tell her it should be _him_ laid up here, and not her daughter? "Izu-kun told us how amazin' ya' were, n' how hard ya' worked to see her here safe and give her a fightin' chance. We're so lucky you were there, Katsuki-kun. _Thank you_." Her voice cracks with emotion, and in the end that's all it takes for the dam to break; for hot, angry tears to spill over; for a woman who looks and sounds _so much_ like Uraraka to gather him into her arms and rub his back and reassure him everything's going to be fine.

And maybe it's the easy certainty of her tone, or maybe it's the byproduct of deep social conditioning, rooted in the imperative to implicitly trust maternal judgment, or maybe he's just fucking dead tired – who the hell can say? Whatever the reason, for the first time since this whole shitshow began, when Uraraka's mom says ' _it's gonna be okay_ ,' Katsuki allows himself to believe she might be right.

* * *

*ryokan: 'a type of traditional japanese inn' - worth a google for the pictures alone. breath-taking spaces.

**Stitch Fix: the staff doctor at uraraka's first agency out of high school. he and uraraka have some juicy history bakugou *hates,* which i plan to dig into a bit in the second and possibly third chapters of 'this moronic episode...' assuming i ever get back to that side-story... -_-

***sumida – big ass river in tokyo, spanned by like, over nine-thousand(!) bridges. (really just twenty-six, but my go-to hyperbole figure is nine-thousand for forever, i'm afraid.)

also, a couple more notes:

-uraraka's dad calls her 'sweet tea' because the first part of her name literally means 'tea,' hee hee. thought it'd make for a cute, localized nickname.

-bakugou refusing to call iida by name is most definitely deliberate. i don't know that i'll ever really explore the 'why' behind that little piece of trivia, but i wanted to let everyone know it's very much on purpose. ;)

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also, yes, _four_ chapters. *please* forgive the bloated, out-of-control mess this splinter fic has become - particularly since i can say with **absolute certainty** that the next chapter is the last chapter, because this time -and this is a first for me- it's ALREADY WRITTEN. *dramatic prairie dog look*

it _does_ need editing, but the thing is _done_. got some family stuff this weekend that'll probably eat up most of my free time, but i'll do my best to polish the last chapter up and have it show-ready in a day or two -or first thing monday, at the very latest.

your reviews have been amazing and continue to be the grease that keeps this wheel turning. thank you all, truly~ 3

last chapter of 'afe' will officially be underway starting next week!

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[next chapter: deus ex horn girl.]


	4. nothing has changed

IT. IS. _**DONE**_!

a thing to keep in mind while you read this chapter:

i looooove japanese honorifics, both as a lexical category and as an immediate indicator of the nature of a given, often layered social relationship. i'm very attached to them, which is why i've chosen to use them throughout this series, except in cases where i believe the relationship in question is such that the honorific isn't necessary, which _itself_ is an indicator of the closeness of the individuals. (although, quick note: i don't use the honorofics at all in exposition, because that would be tedious as fuuuuuuck.)

that said, tl;dr: in this chapter, _just once_ , i've used an english 'mr' instead of –san or –kun or what-have-you, because in this single instance, i really think the 'mr' works to better effect. it's cheap and arbitrary, but that's my justification and i'm stickin' to it.

enjoy~

* * *

It's close to another hour after Uraraka's parents show up before the kid finally arrives, during which time a whole lot of fucking nothing happens. Katsuki takes a quick nap as instructed (though when he'd closed his eyes he hadn't _actually_ meant to fall asleep), and is gently awakened after fifteen minutes –as promised—by Uraraka's mom. As he comes around, she holds a finger to her lips for quiet, then points left, where he discovers Deku and Four Eyes on the couch beside him, the both of them conked out and –in Deku's case—drooling and softly snoring.

A couple minutes later, while Uraraka's parents are engaged in deep, hushed conversation by the bed, Katsuki perceives an open window and –unable to help himself— coolly backhands Deku in the stomach –not hard enough to cause any real pain, just enough to be jarring, and effect a literal rude awakening. Deku comes to with an audible ' _OOF_!' and surges to his feet in a battle-ready pose, head whipping around frantically in search of an unseen assailant, whorls of electric green already snap-crackle-popping around his body and standing that seaweed mop he calls hair at stiff, static attention.

The room fills with awkward silence. Uraraka's parents stare at Deku in open shock, Four Eyes blearily stirs but somehow doesn't wake up, and Katsuki smears a slow, shit-eating grin across his face as Deku sheepishly realizes he's been had. In a blink, the Full Cowl flickers out, and Deku fastens his arms to his sides and starts bowing repeatedly toward the Urarakas, apologizing profusely. They wave him off and politely assure him it's fine, but it takes him a while to stop blabbering and bobbing like a damn dipping bird long enough to get the memo.

When he cuts himself loose at last, he turns a frown down at Katsuki.

"Somethin' to say, _Deku_?" Katsuki challenges, in a smug tone very much intended to provoke. Deku rolls his eyes and gingerly sits back down, sighing exasperatedly but ultimately keeping his nerd mouth shut. Katsuki basks in the glow of his triumph for several minutes.

The rest of the hour passes in relative peace, with Deku occasionally stepping out to answer phone calls from friends and colleagues looking for updates on Uraraka's condition, or from authorities needing to confer about matters related to the raid –which already feels like a lifetime ago.

Katsuki gets his own fair share of calls, probably similar in nature to Deku's, but he ignores them all. The only messages he bothers to check are the texts Eijirou sends him, which consist mostly of pointless, flutter-by musings or indecipherable strings of emojis. Katsuki never responds, but the messages roll in relentlessly anyway, every few minutes or so, not once letting up. Which is every bit as aggravating as it is annoyingly welcome.

Once Four Eyes wakes up, he attempts to open a dialogue with Uraraka's parents –and with _him_ , though Katsuki shuts that shit _right_ the hell down— and fields a few calls of his own, including one apparently from Frogger, who's out on a mission somewhere in the Indian Ocean, and only just got the news.

Finally, as the sun starts to set, every phone in the room goes off at once. A group text from Eijirou instructs them to report to the waiting room for the obligatory 'meet-and-greet.'

Scoffing, Katsuki tucks his phone into the pocket of his ridiculous sweats, spares Uraraka a parting glance, and files out with the rest of the group.

/-/

The kid arrives flanked by a posse of pros: there's Eijirou, holding her hand and chattering cheerfully; and there's that Tin Tin-looking motherfucker, Lemillion, posted up at her other side, bizarrely mirroring her sprightly, bouncing gait; and bringing up the rear, seeming to blend into the shadows of the darkening hospital, is Aizawa, looking fried and weathered and overall like the fucking living dead. So, pretty much exactly as Katsuki remembers.

Aizawa beelines for Uraraka's parents, probably to break down for them how the kid's quirk works, and make clear the risks involved. Meanwhile, the _second_ the kid lays eyes on Deku, she shrieks excitedly, detaches herself from Eijirou, and sprints into Deku's waiting embrace. He grabs her up and twirls her around, much to her giggling delight, and sets her on her feet as they simultaneously fucking _erupt_ with stories and life updates. Tin Tin cuts in every once in a while, but seems largely content to stand by and proudly watch two dorks geek the fuck out at each other. Eijirou splinters off to greet Four Eyes, who has to make a frenzied fumble for his glasses when fucking Hard Head jovially slaps him on the back and they nearly go flying off his face.

Katsuki hangs back, leaning up against a wall with his arms crossed, observing.

The kid looks dramatically different. He hasn't had any personal cause to see her after he graduated from U.A., but Eijirou's dragged him along on a few babysitting visits over the years, insisting each time that Katsuki bring her a gift in the form of hero apparel or candied apples, since she's apparently nuts about both for reasons he's sure are tragic and schmaltzy as fuck and hence has never asked about.

In the year and change since he last saw her, she's gotten significantly taller –hell, she's nearly shoulder-high on Eijirou now, where before she'd been just below chest height. It's obvious at a glance she's still growing into her new stature, 'cause she's gangly and a little uncoordinated, but even enveloped in that rainbow-vomit fucking _travesty_ of an outfit she's wearing, he can tell she's developing some tone and definition, which undoubtedly means Aizawa's been helping her to condition more than just her quirk.

Another difference that leaps out at him immediately is her hair: long and platinum white as ever, but today pulled back into a simple, fashionable ponytail instead of twisted into a thousand variably sloppy, Medusa-wild braids (she'd been _obsessed_ with braids a year ago) he'd spent hours furiously –but delicately—untangling and re-plaiting while she and Eijirou played video games.

And last, but definitely not least, is her horn, jutting out of her forehead like a knife-edged spire, nearly as long now as Four Eyes' palms are wide. According to Eijirou, the longer her horn grows, the more powerful her mysterious quirk becomes. Unfortunately, as her power increases, so too does the risk that comes with using it. To keep her from tipping over into 'dangerous instability' territory and help her maintain some degree of control, Eijirou had once explained, the occasional, carefully-monitored 'power dump' was deemed necessary, which must mean she has at least relatively regular opportunities to exercise her quirk. And, as Deku noted earlier, the kid _had_ successfully restored Tin Tin's stolen quirk, without incident.

But the risk remains, even with Aizawa there to step in if things get dicey. By all accounts, the kid's control is still extremely limited, and this is a big, stressful, high-pressure ask; in the heat of the moment, she could rewind Uraraka clear out of existence just as fast and easy as she could rewind his partner safely to a point before she'd gotten stabbed.

Which is why, as irritating as it is to see these idiots pointlessly dicking around, wasting time, and as fist-eatingly impatient as he is to get this shit over with, he's also reluctant to call them out and speed things along, because as soon as the kid steps into Uraraka's room, it's do or _literally fucking die_ , and fuck, _no_ , _**shit**_ , he _refuses_ to spin out in front of all these assholes-!

"Hi, Mr. Lord Murder." A tiny voice hails, from right the fuck in front of him, and _god fucking_ _ **dammit**_ , even the _kid_ can sneak up on him now? He has got to get his shit in _check_.

"'Sup, Apples." Katsuki returns, concentrating on breathing evenly as she unfurls one of the fists she's got bunched in the flared skirt of her jumper and shyly waves.

"Kiri-nii* says you look sad, and I should come give you a hug." He sends a poisonous glare over her head at Eijirou, whose Cheshire grin only broadens obnoxiously as he beholds it.

" _Did he_." Katsuki grinds out from between clenched teeth. Heeding his tone, she takes an uncertain step back. He's only vaguely aware he might be upsetting her, focused as he is on trying to light Eijirou on fire by sheer fucking force of will.

"Are you scared about Ura-nee?" _That_ brings his attention squarely back to the kid.

He could lie to her, and insist he doesn't _get_ scared – _ever_ , because fear is for chicken-shit cowards and crybaby Dekus, but considering his profoundly traumatized, Deku-adoring audience, he figures that probably wouldn't go over so well. He could also say nothing, and just glower steadily down at her until she buckles and runs crying back to her watchful squad of older brothers, who will shake their fists at him and threaten to kick his ass for hurting her precious fucking feelings (well, Eijirou and Deku will probably just frown at him in consternation, but the point fucking stands).

But, though she doesn't know it herself, the kid had done what no one else could, and pulled him back from the brink. He had come _so fucking close_ to forsaking everything he's ever wanted, everything he's overcome and fought _so hard_ to accomplish, everything he is and ever could be –for what Deku naively called ' _love_ ,' but Katsuki knows as something far more sinister. The _only reason_ he hasn't already taken off to melt Lionfish down to a fleshy fucking paste is the hope that the kid might rectify his fatal mistake and revive Uraraka.

The kid deserves a real answer. She deserves the truth.

"Yeah, kid." Katsuki grates, following a lengthy pause.

"I! I-!" It's a false start. She loses her nerve and has to take a moment to steel herself. Then, she shuffles closer and balls her hands into fists at her side like she's about to pantomime an old-timey steam train, cheeks puffed out and eyes shining. "I'm—I think I can—I'm here to help!" She declares, in a watered down imitation of Deku's go-to hero pronouncement, which itself was flagrantly cribbed from All Might. "S-so you don't have to be scared anymore, 'cause I'm going to save Ura-nee!" At the last, she slides her right foot a half-step back and bends her knees slightly, in a pose that unmistakably resembles one of Deku's classic battle stances. He's beginning to sense a shitty theme.

Sighing heavily to release the encroaching anxiety of seconds prior,

"That s'pposed to be news?" He arches a brow. "'Course you're gonna save her. It's only what I've been telling these dick-brained fuckmunches all goddamn day." Peripherally, he sees Tin Tin and Deku wincing in horror at his language, while Eijirou facepalms and shakes his head. This brings him a brief moment of real joy. Then, since he's apparently a fucking masochist, he adds: "Uraraka's gonna owe you," he almost can't say it, because it feels like someone's using a knife like a stirring spoon in his guts, " _big time_." Beaming like he just handed her a basketful of puppies, she leaps forward and wraps her kid-skinny arms around him to complete the task she was originally sent over to perform, only pulling free when Deku arrives and calls her off.

As the kid dances back, reaching for the hand Deku's already extending to be taken, the rest of the party assembles around them. Then, the announcement they've all been waiting for:

"I'm ready," Eri proclaims, "Let's do this!"

/-/

Eijirou, Tin Tin, and Four Eyes are designated to wait outside of the hospital room –much to Four Eyes' silent, burning chagrin—while the rest of the group process solemnly inside to take up positions around Uraraka's bed, where a nurse is already extracting Uraraka's breathing tube and removing her IV. It's nasty and unpleasant as shit to watch. When she finishes, the squat woman gives them the go-ahead, reminds them their window for action is exceedingly narrow, and quietly trundles out of the room, wishing them luck as she goes.

Uraraka's parents, on either side of the head of her bed, lean in to kiss her face and whisper words of love and encouragement before stepping back to give Eri enough clearance to work her magic without affecting them, too. Deku's shoulder-to-shoulder with Uraraka's mom, arm looped around her elbow in a show of support.

Eri appears to hesitate as she's going for Uraraka's right hand, but only for a tick. Once she's got hold of Uraraka, she looks to Aizawa, posted up directly across from her, arms folded and expression deceptively aloof.

Katsuki stands apart, a meter or so away from the foot of Uraraka's bed, wondering if anyone else's mouth feels like it's filling with sand.

In low, droning tones, Aizawa begins working his way through some sort of pre-activation checklist.

"How far back are we going?" He asks flatly.

"Twenty-four hours." Eri swiftly responds. They've obviously gone over these details exhaustively.

"Margin for error?" Aizawa continues.

"Two hours, plus or minus." Eri says, a note of tension cracking through the veneer.

"What's our tempo?" Aizawa's pronouns, it occurs to Katsuki, are intentionally 'we' and 'our' instead of 'you' and 'your.' Because he wants the kid to know she's not alone, that they're a team and they're in this together. But it doesn't seem like it's enough.

"Five or six hours per minute." Katsuki's not imagining it: the kid's voice is softening more and more with each reply, and her posture's drooping, like she's trying to curl inward and make herself smaller. Deku's noticed, too; he can see the nerd's gears turning, seeking something he alone might do or say to salvage the kid's nerve.

"Meaning we should be finished in…?" Aizawa prompts, deadpan as ever, though Katsuki knows for a fact he _has_ to be perceiving the kid's spiraling self-doubt, because for all his lethargic, done-with-this-shit austerity, Aizawa has _always_ been freakishly dialed in to the emotional vulnerabilities of those under his care.

The kid doesn't answer. Her eyes are shut tight and her lips are quivering like she's about to cry, and Katsuki almost can't take it. It's too fucking much – he's splitting at the fucking seams and crumbling away to dust, because the kid's lost it and Uraraka's _actively dying_ now, and there's not a thing he or anyone else can do to stop it. He bites down on his lip to keep from unleashing the litany of wretched, exigent ' _fucks_ ' threatening to spill forth, and focuses despondently on the _barely_ perceptible rise and fall of Uraraka's chest, because it means she's still alive, if only just for another minute, another second…

 _Don't you fucking leave me_ , he vehemently charges. _**Please**_.

"Eri." Aizawa utters, in a dull yet firm tone. Timidly, she peeks up at him from under stray wisps of hair that've come loose and fallen into her eyes. What he does next is drastic, and something none of them expect: he smiles.

Katsuki and Deku –and probably the kid, too— _have_ seen him smile before; it's rare, but it definitely happens. The thing about Aizawa's smile, though, apart from the infrequency of its appearance and its undeniable inappropriateness under _these_ circumstances, is that it invariably makes him look fucking _ghoulish_. The smile's all teeth, and never reaches his sunken, sleepless eyes, and is in every way the stuff of nightmares.

The kid produces a puffed, snorting sound that transitions into full-blown laughter as his ex-teacher's undertaker smile wedges wider still, and just like that, Aizawa tears through the atmosphere of oppressive hopelessness with a single, weary swipe.

When Eri calms down, it's been almost an entire minute since the nurse finished unplugging Uraraka. He can see a similar realization dawning on Uraraka's parents' faces, that their daughter's time is draining rapidly the fuck away, before their very eyes. Uraraka's mom's knuckles are white where they're grasped around Deku's forearm.

But the waiting is at abruptly at an end when Eri's horn begins to glow, and Aizawa repeats his earlier question.

"How long do we need?"

"Four or five minutes, max!" She calls back, over the sudden, buffeting wind that picks up around her.

"Ready?" Aizawa checks. Eri, crackling with energy, vigorously nods, and closes her eyes again, this time to concentrate.

/-/

Katsuki doesn't know what exactly he expects when the rewind commences, but as the minutes crawl by and the radiance around Eri's horn grows more brilliant, there's no visible change in Uraraka's condition. She just lies there, continuing to breathe but otherwise unchanged, even when Aizawa calls it and the light of Eri's quirk starts to dim.

Finally, Eri's personal whirlwind quiets, and she unclasps her hand from around Uraraka's, and the room holds its collective breath, waiting for a sign that the rewind was a success. But there's _nothing_. Nothing seems different, or better –until the nerd gets the idea Uraraka might simply be sleeping, and tentatively nudges her shoulder.

The effect is _immediate._ Like someone's shocked her, Uraraka's eyes open, her hands flying for her abdomen to feel for a wound that's…no longer there.

Addled and dry-throated, she croaks out, "Is Bakugou-kun okay—?" But that's all she manages before she's mobbed by her parents, Deku, and Eri. "Mama? Papa? Why're you—? What's goin' on? Where is—am I in the _hospital_?"

Katsuki takes this all in from the floor, where he'd crumpled to his knees at some point or other. The sound of her voice, strained and thick with sleep, is music to his fucking ears. The flustered flail of her arms as she tries to extricate herself from the smothering press of bodies tangled around her is somehow the single most heartening thing he's ever fucking witnessed.

She's alive. She's awake and talking and _alive_ and she's going to _stay that way_ , in fucking perpetuity, if he's got anything to say about it.

Katsuki's already making plans to stop off at that dinky, family-owned mochi shop Uraraka goes out of her way to visit every time she's in his neighborhood, clean the place out, and magnanimously make the trip across town to Uraraka's too-small apartment to hand-deliver the goods –because, as she'd made _painfully_ clear before he nearly lost her forever, he owes her. And he's mature and well-adjusted enough to know when he needs to pay what's due for services fucking rendered.

After that, scales balanced and slate clean, they can go back to being partners and building the Kamino Pizza Agency together and occasionally invading each other's homes and personal lives when interfering Eijirous and/or Denkis and/or Ashidos stick their idiot noses where they don't fucking belong.

Everything will go _right_ back to where it was before all this heinous, crushing shit went down, because fundamentally, nothing has changed.

Absolutely nothing.

" _I_ know _it hurts, Kacchan, believe me. It hurts me, too. Because_ I love her, too _."_

 _ **Fuck you**_ _, Deku_ , he mentally thunders, clinging to his misplaced resentment for dear fucking life, because Deku and his asinine assumptions can _get fucked_.

The _only_ thing that's different now is that Katsuki knows he can't go through this, ever again. He never intends to _let_ this happen again, which is a good fucking start, but in the impossible event they find themselves in a similar position in the future, he _cannot_ allow himself to fall prey to whatever the hell madness incited him to so glibly cast off his integrity, his principles, the cornerstone of his whole fucking identity and his _reason for existing_ , all toward the fulfillment of some trumped-up, played-out goddamn revenge fantasy.

Which means he has to let go –not of Uraraka herself, as a partner and business associate. Katsuki's not a total fuckwit; he knows they've got a good thing going, and he'd sooner chew glass than give up their professional affiliation. But this other, indisputably powerful, nameless **thing** he's got for Uraraka is toxic, and twisted, and _completely_ unacceptable, and he wants no further part of it. It's a dangerous liability, and a threat to his career, and it ends today, right here, right fucking now.

And the first step, he realizes, involves getting the hell out of here before she says his name again; or beckons him irresistibly to her side so she can fret over the injuries _he_ sustained when _she's_ the one who just fucking _cheated death_ ; or chortles endearingly at his dumbass digs; or –worst of all— _looks_ at him with those big, brown eyes he would sacrifice the whole fucking planet to protect. (Which, again, is _hugely fucking problematic_.)

As furtively as possible, Katsuki tries to climb to his feet, only to be thwarted when his legs won't stop fucking wobbling like he's Deku's bullet-fast, senile, first mentor. Aizawa's the only one who appears to notice his sudden onset paraplegia, and while obviously he'd prefer his incisive former teacher watch the celebratory reunion instead of his inexplicably rickety ass, Aizawa's –weirdly unrelenting— attention is better than literally anyone else's in the room, because literally anyone else would call him the fuck out and try to bring him into the jubilant fold, and _fuck that noise_.

 _At long freaking last_ , he gets his feet under him and starts for the door, hoping to slip out before anyone has the wherewithal to attempt to stop him.

Naturally, in the same instant, the door slides loudly open, and Eijirou, Four Eyes, Tin Tin, a couple of curious nurses, and a white-coated doctor burst into the room all at once. Uncertain how his life has become a goddamn comedy of errors, Katsuki irritably forsakes the now-crowded route and spins on his heel to make for that big-ass window he'd napped under earlier, while the auxiliary group tears toward Uraraka's bed to join in the joyous fracas.

Ignoring Aizawa's dead-eyed stare –which for some reason is _still_ locked onto him—Katsuki steps onto the couch, fluidly unlatches the locked casing, and doesn't concern himself with trying to stay quiet as he opens the window. The point is to get out of here fast; stealth is a secondary consideration.

He's half out the window before his Imminently Murdered roommate speaks up and ruins everything,

"Hey, man, where're _you_ off to in such a hurry?" The clamor of voices quiets, and Katsuki can feel every eye in the room pressing against his back, weighing him down, compelling him to stay.

"Bakugou-kun!" Uraraka chirrups, sounding surprised and utterly elated.

And that nearly seals it. He almost turns around, strides back into the room, bowls every fuck in the room out of his way –you bet your ass that includes her parents and Eri—and does something so monumentally and tremendously fucking stupid he'll never be able to take it back or live it down.

But that's not what happens. Ultimately, all her heartfelt summons does is reaffirm the dire necessity of his leaving.

Katsuki thinks he hears Uraraka begin to say something else, but he can't be sure, because he's already thrown himself out the window and blasted off into the night.

That this might qualify as running away is a notion he flatly refuses to entertain.

* * *

*niisan/neesan = older brother/sister; in essence, eri's referring to kirishima as 'big bro kiri,' and to uraraka as 'big sis ura.' this sounds pretty clunky when translated to english, but it's a cutesy kid way of referring to older brother/sister figures, and you CANNOT TELL ME eri doesn't refer to her full squad of rescuers in this specific manner (i.e. 'mirio-nii, deku-nii, tsu-nee). you also can't convince me she doesn't call aizawa 'papa,' but that's a story for another day...

/-/

and there we have it: The Reason bakugou and uraraka haven't already gotten together when the events of 'a feat equal' begin! ta-daaaaaa~

(if you're *new* to this series and don't like that the kacchako didn't explicitly happen by the end of this piece, please allow me to direct you to the centerpiece of the floaty 'splodey universe this fic belongs to: 'a feat equal!' more conclulsive kacchako lies therein. ^_^)

meanwhile. the _entirety_ of the opening scene was crafted to let us know why the hell tsuyu isn't there when she _definitely_ should be, but somehow it turned into exhibit a: bakugou's a giant poop monster? as much development as this boy undergoes, and as much as i think he *can* genuinely admit to himself that he cares for deku at this point, i don't think he's ever really going to *stop* being the perpetual lord of flaming garbageville, so. y'know. sorry, deku, you long-suffering darling.

also: i worked about eight gazillion headcanons into this chapter, not the least of which includes the one i've run across on more than one occasion that, as a result of interning with best jeanist, bakugou came away with unexpectedly incredible hair skillz. so yesthat'sRIGHT eri got the star treatment at the bakugou hair salon. XD

thecontinuingsagaofheadcanons: no, i don't think kirishima, like charles boyle of brooklyn 99 fame, is a serial texter. i think he just loves bakugou and knows his bro is hurting and wants to do what he can to cheer his soul-bro up from afar, so what he's doing is texting bakugou nonstop, hoping to annoy the bejeezus out of him to distract him. because kirishima is Number One Best Bro for LAIF.

stopshakingsticksatmyheadcanons: though at first aizawa's fashion choices for eri are unanimously overruled by Others, at some point, he's solely responsible for buying her clothes, and *she* didn't come with any preconceptions of what is or is not fashionable, so maybe what i'm saying in this chapter when bakugou observes eri's terrible, terrible outfit is that most of her wardrobe is hideous, because her larger fashion sensibilities were cultivated by none other than Caterpillar Dad himself.

i'mma take a break for a few days and soak in this goodgood positivity week, because this fic has destroyed me, both spiritually and in terms of Having a Life. but next stop is the last chapter of 'feat equal,' and i am _hella_ excited to write it, so stay tuned!

thank you to the gottdamn moon for the support, y'all, and much love, you cool babies~


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